Page 15
The bus lurches around a corner, and I grip the edge of the seat to steady myself. My back aches from standing all day at the law firm. I should be in heaven. This is exactly the kind of experience I’ve dreamed of. It’s exactly where I wanted to be a year ago, but all I can focus on is the manila folder in my lap and the life growing inside me.
“Next stop, Meridian Avenue,”
the automated voice announces.
God, I’m tired. Pregnancy hormones are wreaking absolute havoc on my body. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m ready to collapse. I rub my eyes and grip the folder tighter, resisting the urge to open it and read the paperwork for the thousandth time. I’ve spent weeks drafting it and I’ve tweaked it more times than I can count. I can’t afford any mistakes, not when it comes to protecting my child.
My child. Our child. Sometimes I still can’t believe this is real.
The bus stops with a jerk, and I nearly drop my folder. A woman across the aisle gives me a sympathetic look as I fumble to collect my scattered papers. Her eyes flick to my midsection, and I instinctively tug my loose sweater forward, though I know the slight curve of my stomach is becoming more obvious each day.
It’s been three months since I found out about the pregnancy. I’ve kept it secret from everyone, even Meg.
Normally, I’d have Meg or Jules review something this important. They’re both brilliant. Or I could ask one of the senior associates at Brennan & Wallace. But that would mean telling them about the pregnancy, and I’m not ready for that conversation. Not yet.
But I can’t put it off much longer. There’s a huge car crash coming in my future and I can see it coming even as I can’t stop it. All I can do is cushion myself as much as possible and brace for impact.
Nash Thorndike doesn’t know he is about to be a father but he is about to.
The bus starts moving again. I check my watch. There’s still an hour before the courthouse closes. I have time, but not much. The motion has to be filed today.
I give in and read through the paperwork once more. My arguments are solid, everything backed up precedent. The problem is that an alpha has the automatic right to claim full custody of their child. It’s an archaic law, exercised more times than it should be. I’ve studied this particular law, debated it with my friends, but even so it never once occurred to me that I would fall foul of it but then I never intended to get pregnant. I didn’t intend a lot of things.
Knowing Nash Thorndike and knowing the Bureau, I can’t take any chances. This pre-emptive injunction is my only protection against him taking my baby away if—when—he finds out.
My hand drifts to my belly. I’m doing this for you, I think. To keep you safe.
The memory of Nash surfaces unbidden. I can’t forget the intensity in his dark eyes as he moved above me, putting this baby inside me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing away the flash of heat that accompanies the thought. It was just chemistry. Just my stupid omega body responding to a compatible alpha pheromone signature.
It meant nothing.
The bus slows again and this time, it’s my stop. I gather my things and stand carefully, pausing to find my balance as a wave of dizziness passes over me. I make my way off the bus carefully, holding the folder tight.
The courthouse isn’t far, but there are a lot of steps inside.
I climb them slowly, one hand on the railing. My footsteps echo on the marble floor as I make my way to the clerk’s office.
The woman at the desk barely looks up as I approach. “Filing?”
I slide the papers across the counter.
“Pre-emptive injunction.”
She glances at the top sheet, then at me, her expression changing slightly.
“Family court?”
“Yes.”
“Custody case?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
Her eyes catch mine.
“First child?”
“Is it that obvious?”
I ask before I can stop myself.
A small smile softens her face.
“You have that look. Scared but determined.”
She stamps the forms and makes a notation in her computer.
“The judge will review this by Friday. You’ll be notified of his decision.”
“Thank you.”
I swallow hard.
“If it’s denied—”
“You can appeal or modify your motion and refile,”
she says, already turning to the next person in line. “Next.”
I step away from the counter, suddenly unsure what to do. The papers are filed. The motion is in process. Now all I can do is wait and hope.
The courthouse steps seem steeper going down. My legs feel shaky, and I clutch the railing tightly. What am I doing? How am I going to handle a baby when I don’t even have proper housing?
The thoughts have been racing round and round my head for months.
The office squat is no place for a child and my internship at Brennan & Wallace barely covers my own expenses, let alone a baby’s needs.
For the first time since learning about the pregnancy, I let myself consider the unthinkable: maybe I should contact my mother. She could make all this go away. She has the connections, the influence, the money. I’d never have considered it while my father was alive, but maybe now it’s not so bad.
All it would cost is my pride and independence. And probably my child’s autonomy too.
No. I shake my head sharply. I won’t crawl back now, not even for my child’s sake. Especially not for my child’s sake.
There has to be another way.
The bus back towards campus is crowded, bodies pressed together in the late afternoon rush. I stand, gripping the overhead bar as the vehicle sways and jerks through traffic. My mind drifts to Nash again. Will he help me when he finds out?
The thought is almost laughable. He had me dragged from my bed in handcuffs. He’d probably just use the pregnancy to try entrap me.
I haven’t heard from him, but then I have blocked him on every channel I have: my phone number, Whatsapp, email, all my social media accounts.
At least he has never turned up at my door. For all the man’s many faults—and he has many—, after that initial push at the cottage and that farcical bonding ceremony, he’s mostly respected my decision to walk away.
The squat comes into view as I round the corner from the bus stop. I let myself in, drop my messenger bag on the floor and sink onto the edge of the mattress, suddenly exhausted.
I should be celebrating. The injunction is filed. I’ve taken the first step to protect my child’s future as best I can. Instead, I feel hollow, uncertain. I haven’t solved the housing problem, the money problem, the how-do-I-raise-a-baby-alone problem.
One thing at a time, I remind myself. First, secure legal protection. Then worry about the rest.
I allow myself ten minutes of rest before forcing myself back to my feet. I need to grab dinner, maybe review some notes for class tomorrow. I’m determined to stay on track with my law degree. Now more than ever, I need that degree. I need the security and opportunities it will provide for me and my child.
The campus cafeteria is usually quiet this time of evening. I can grab something quick and head back before exhaustion claims me completely.
The walk across campus is peaceful. Dusk settles over the buildings, painting everything in soft golden light. Students lounge on the quad, enjoying the last weeks of summer weather. A frisbee arcs overhead. Laughter drifts on the breeze. It all feels so normal, so ordinary, while my life has become anything but.
I cut through the humanities quad, taking the shortcut past the psychology building. It’s faster, and my feet are killing me.
I’m halfway across the open space when I see him.
Nash Thorndike stands on the steps of the psychology building, briefcase in hand, deep in conversation with a professor I recognize from first year. Nash looks exactly the same—tall, gorgeous, infuriating.
I freeze, instinct telling me to turn and go the other way. But it’s too late.
Nash looks up, and our eyes lock across the quad.
The world narrows to just us. The sounds of campus fade. My heart pounds so hard I’m certain he can hear it even from this distance. His expression changes, surprise giving way to something I can’t read.
His lips part. He takes a half-step in my direction.
I turn and walk away, my heart still thundering in my chest. I don’t run—I’m too proud for that—but I move as quickly as my tired body allows, putting as much distance between us as possible.
What is he doing here? On campus? Questions swirl as I retreat, but one certainty crystallizes: Nash Thorndike is back in my orbit. And everything just got infinitely more complicated.